


Five times Tony Stark saved Peter Parker and one time Peter saves both himself and Tony

by parkerr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerr/pseuds/parkerr
Summary: Five times Tony Stark saved Peter Parker and one time Peter saves both himself and TonyThis is so cliche, I cry every time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I got an alert from your suit that you needed me.” Tony said. “Everything good on your end?”
> 
> “I’m sitting in a pool of blood.” 
> 
> Silence from the other end of the call. 
> 
> “It it… your blood?”
> 
> Peter looked down at his leg, which was steadily leaking blood through his suit and down to the ground. “Yeah, I think so.”
> 
> More silence.
> 
> “Do you know where its coming from?” Tony asked.
> 
> Peter shrugged to himself. “Probably the stab wound.”
> 
> “You’ve been stabbed?” came the panicked reply. Peter could already hear the whirring of the Iron Man suit, followed closely by the woosh of thrusters. 
> 
> “Oh yeah, definitely,” Peter replied.
> 
> \---
> 
> In which Peter is stabbed and calls Tony for help.
> 
>  (inspiration for this chapter came from this post)  
> https://tmblr.co/Zg7q8d2UTkGkK

1.

_“Pain is one helluva drug, kid. Sends the body into panic mode. You gotta look out for shock. Increased pulse, lowered blood pressure, and then your brain goes all fuzzy. You lose a lot of those higher mental functions.” Tony said. Peter nodded distractedly. His mind was on the project on his desk back home. He was working on a few updated for his web shooters and was itching to get back to them._

 

_“You probably won’t find yourself in situations like these often,” Tony warned. “Hell, with your elevated abilities, who knows, maybe shock will barely effect you. But you can still get hurt.” He paused, staring at Peter, who was staring at his sneaker shoelaces, studying how they overlapped each other. “And you’ve gotta know what to do if you are. I can’t have you swinging around with no regard for your own safety while you’re out on the streets. Cause if you get hurt, that’s on me kid.” There was a slight tremor in his voice, giving away Tony’s barely concealed concern. “If you’re ever in trouble, just call me, okay?_

 

_“Mmhhmmm,” Peter hummed in response, his mind still elsewhere._

 

_“No, no, no ‘mmhhmmm’-ing at me. You've got to be careful. You're smart, but sometimes you're reckless and you take unnecessary risks and I need you to promise me you’ll be careful.”_

 

_Peter looked at Tony. Actually looked at him. The worry in his eyes was real. The barely masked fear; real. Tony was concerned for his safety, Peter knew that, but he still doubted he’d ever be in that bad of a situation that he’d need to call Mr. Stark for help. But, Tony was the closest thing to a father that Peter had and he didn’t want to disappoint him._

 

_“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I promise.”_

 

\----

 

Mr. Stark had been wrong. Shock could still effect Peter. Who’d a thunk it? Definitely not him. But here he was, with his elevated blood pressure and low pulse, or was it low blood pressure and elevated pulse? He couldn’t quite remember. All he could think about was how cold he was. And his leg kind of ached.

 

He knew had to call Tony, he was pretty certain of that. But wouldn’t it just be so much easier to just sit and rest for a while? Peter was pretty tired after taking on those six guys alone. Who knew a six to one fight wasn’t fair, even with enhanced abilities. Even with the updated web shooters. Even with his spidey senses and fast reflexes. He had still been too slow.

 

His whole body ached. Something in his right wrist felt like it was cracking every time he moved it. His leg felt like it was trying to remove itself from the rest of his body, all numb and detached. It burned whenever he moved it.

 

Peter slowly made his way over to a dumpster. The alley he was currently in was small and the single garbage disposal was the only cover from the street. He slumped down next to it, flopping onto something that squished underneath him. Snaking a tired hand under his legs, Peter pulled the squishy thing out from under him. It was a moldy burger. Nice.

 

“Peter, you have sustained multiple injuries and are in need of medical attention. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?” came Karen’s voice. The contact info for Tony Stark flashed across Peter’s heads up display.

 

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Peter mumbled. He tossed the sad burger away. It reminded him of himself. Moldy and alone in a dark alleyway. He struggled to remember what Karen had just said to him. Something about attention? An incoming call refreshed his foggy memory.

 

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” Tony’s voice came through loud and clear, cutting through Peter’s hazy thoughts.

 

“Oh, hey Mr. Stark,” he said, not really processing the words coming out of his mouth. “I’m pretty good, I guess. How are you?”

 

“I got an alert from your suit that you needed me.” Tony ignored his question. “Everything good on your end?” He voice sounded a little worried and honestly, Peter didn’t blame him. Peter almost never called in the middle of patrol.

 

He heaved a sigh and looked up at the sky. The stars looked so bright from down here. Peter wondered how bright they’d look close up. Probably too bright to look at without hurting his eyes. Like the sun.

 

“Pete?” came Mr. Stark’s voice, prompting a reply out of the teen.

 

“I’m sitting in a pool of blood.”

 

Silence from the other end of the call.

 

“It it… _your_ blood?”

 

Peter looked down at his leg, which was steadily leaking blood through his suit and down to the ground. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

More silence.

 

“Do you know where its coming from?” Tony asked.

 

Peter shrugged to himself. “Probably the stab wound.”

 

“You’ve been stabbed?” came the panicked reply. Peter could already hear the whirring of the Iron Man suit, followed closely by the woosh of thrusters.

 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Peter replied. He looked up again. The stars seemed closer than before. Then he passed out.

 

\----

 

The absolute last thing that Tony Stark needed right now was a bleeding fifteen year old kid laying in an alley somewhere in New York City. But here he was, flying towards the location supplied by Peter’s suit as fast as the Iron Man Suit could take him. Peter had left SI after dinner, telling Tony he was going “patrolling”, but wouldn’t be out long, citing an upcoming spanish quiz as his reason for coming back early. That had been four hours ago. At first, Tony had assumed he had just gotten distracted and stayed out later than he’d meant to. It wouldn’t have been the first time the happened. But when FRIDAY alerted him to an incoming distress call from Peter, Tony’s worry had elevated. And when the kid said he was _stabbed_ and then promptly passed out, Tony went into high alert.

 

“FRIDAY, gimme an ETA” he barked at the AI. “And give me a reading of Peter’s vitals.”

 

“Three minutes out, boss.” came the smooth reply. “Pulse is elevated, and blood pressure is dropping, along with body temperature.” Tony grimaced. He had to get there faster. Peter needed him. The kid was his responsibility and if he got there too late…

 

“Give ‘em all we got FRI.” Tony rocketed off into the city skyline, weaving past buildings, getting closer and closer to the little dot that was Peter’s GPS location on his display.

 

“On your left, in that alley.” FRIDAY supplied.

 

Tony veered off to the side and came to a halt just inside the side street. Peter should have been right here. But all Tony saw was a dumpster and some old trash on the street.

 

“Help me out here, FRIDAY.” he said, panic creeping into his voice. The AI scanned the area, and an illuminated view of the alley popped up in his display. There was a glowing figure behind the dumpster. It wasn’t moving.

 

“There,” the AI said, but Tony was already out of the suit and racing forward.

 

It was Peter. The kid was still in his Spiderman suit, but it was covered in filth and ripped in some places. Tony reached out and pulled off the mask. Peter’s face came into view, his eyes closed and face pale. He hadn’t been lying about the pool of blood he was sitting in. And it was definitely his own, if the knife embedded in the kid’s thigh was anything to go off of. At least he hasn’t pulled it out immediately.

 

“Peter, come on. Wake up.” Tony shook the teen lightly, waiting for him to open his eyes or move, even make any noise to indicate that he was okay. Nothing. “Peter, come on, give me something here.”

 

When there was no response, Tony decided he had to take matters into his own hands. After a quick scan by FRIDAY, Tony’s heart sank. The kid’s wrist had a hairline fracture, and he was in danger of bleeding out from his femoral artery if he didn’t get help soon. He called the suit to him, got inside, and then reached down, scooping Peter’s limp body up and into his arms. He was careful not to jostle him around too much. Then he took off in the direction of Stark Tower.

 

“FRI, alert medical I’m on my way, three minutes out.” He said, glancing down at Peter’s prone form in his arms. “Make it two.”

 

\---

 

The first thing Peter felt before he even opened his eyes was the pain. He hurt. A lot. All over. But especially his leg. Stab wounds suck. Hold on, stab wounds?

 

Peter’s eyes snapped open. He was in a bright room with white walls. The bed he was in was incredibly soft, softer than the bed he had at home, and had blue cotton sheets. Peter could feel a bandage wrapped around his thigh, another around his wrist. There were some machines around him, beeping softly as they read out his heart rate, informing him that he was very much alive.

 

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Peter turn his head towards the corner. There, in a green plastic chair, sat Tony Stark. He did not look happy.

 

Peter tried for a smile. “H-hey Mr. Stark. Long time, no see.” Tony didn’t smile back. Peter decided to try again. “Uh, nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s raining.” Tony replied, not once cracking.

 

“Oh, that’s uh, that’s cool I guess, I always liked the rain. It reminds me of-”

 

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” Tony cut him off. “Any idea what state you were in when I found you?”

 

“Can I take a guess and say not great?” Peter said, looking at Tony’s face to see his reaction. He barely twitched. “In my defense, I-”

 

“No, this is where you zip it.” Tony said abruptly. Peter was stunned into silence. “I don’t think you realize how close to dying you got. Your femoral artery was nicked, you could’ve bled out in that alley. And if you died, that would’ve been on me, been on _my_ conscious.” Peter could’ve sworn he heard Tony’s voice crack. “Cause I’m the one who is responsible for you while you’re out there swinging around in the suit.”

 

Peter was silent. “I called you though.” he said quietly.

 

“About the only thing you did right. And you’re lucky I got there when I did.” Tony said. “God, I sound like my father.” He grimaced and Peter was struck all at once by how much the older man cared.

 

“I’m really sorry Mr. Stark.” he apologized. “I just thought I could take them. And then one of them pulled the knife and I was so busy with the other five guys that I didn’t really notice until-”

 

“The other _five_?” Tony cut Peter off again, this time with disbelief coloring his voice. “What are you doing, taking on six fully grown men?” he questioned. “You’re fifteen! You’re in high school, for crying out loud!”

 

“But I have superpowers!” Peter interjected. “I had to step in, how can I be a friendly neighborhood Spiderman if all the people in the neighborhood are being stabbed?” Tony looked at him, judgement evident in every crease of his face. “Not my best excuse, okay I get it. But Mr. Stark, they were trying to mug these two kids and I couldn’t just stand by and watch, and I’ve got accelerated healing and stuff, so I thought I’d be fine and I saved those kids, didn’t I? So really, if you look at it that way, I did the best I cou-”

 

Peter’s rambling trailed off when he looked at Tony. The billionaire was rubbing his hands over his face, and Peter could clearly saw the exhaustion that was there.

 

“Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony sighed. “Listen, I’m just glad you’re okay. You did good calling me when you did.” He paused, and Peter leaned closer. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

Peter smiled faintly and to his relief, he saw Tony return the smile. “Thanks Mr. Stark.”

 

“What have I told you about the ‘Mr. Stark’ thing, Underoos?”

 

"Yeah, yeah, okay Tony." Peter replied with a grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue is the bane of my existence, sorry it sucks.
> 
> please comment, leave kudos, bookmark, idk, I just like hearing back from readers.
> 
> I'll try to update within a few days


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter is dumb, almost dies, and then bonds with Tony over the whole thing.

2. 

 

“Mr. Stark, I-”

 

“Kid, how many times have we discussed this? ‘Mr. Stark’ makes me feel old, you’re giving me enough gray hairs from sheer stress as it is.”

 

“Mr. Tony, sir, I just was wondering why we’re doing this exactly. You already gave me a suit and you keep upgrading it, not that I’m complaining Mr. Star-Tony, the suit is great, better than great, it’s fantastic, really, but why-”

 

“Breathe, Peter.” Tony looked up from the table where he was fiddling with the Spiderman suit. “I swear to god, one of these days you’re gonna keep talking until you run out of air and just collapse.”

 

Peter looked at Tony from where he was perched on the work table. He frowned at the older man, the two tiny, almost imperceptible electrodes that Tony had placed on his temples shifting slightly as his brow creased.

 

“But why do we-” Tony raised a single judgmental eyebrow. “Sorry, _you_ , keep changing the specs? There are no new threats I should know about, right? You’re not assembling the Avengers again, are you?” Peter asked, excitement clear on his face, making Tony the one who frowned this time.

 

“Kid, if there’s ever a threat big enough to warrant the Avengers assembling in New York again, I’ll be sure _not_ to call you.” Peter’s face fell. “The last thing I need is a teenager in Spanx swinging around the city talking my ear off while I’m trying to save the world.”

 

“Spanx?” Peter grumbled. “You’re the one who designed my suit, you can’t just insult it like that.”

 

“It’s a tough world kid.” Tony said with a wry grin. “Now get off that table, we’ve got work to do.”

 

“Yeah, about that. What exactly is it that you’re trying to do.” Peter pointed towards the teeny pieces of tape on his head. “Cause all you’ve done since I got here an hour ago is stick these on my face and tell me that you wanted to try to stress me out as much as possible and honestly it’s been working cause I don’t think I’ve been calm since getting here.”

 

“I’m trying to get a measure on your metabolism, healing factor, max heart rate and respiratory rate, some baselines for both, as well as a few other things.” Tony explained briefly. “I’ve already gotten quite a few false alarms from FRIDAY when there was a notable spike in heart and respiratory rate detected and it turned out that you just saw a dog on the street and weren’t being attacked.” Peter blushed at this. “So, I want baselines for different states. FRIDAY is going to be monitoring your brainwaves, physical endurance, limitations; just general output from those electrodes over the course of a few days and then I’m compiling a new system of making sure you’re not dying while out on patrol.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “So what, I’m just supposed to wear these little pieces of tape on my face all day?” he complained, sliding off the table and turning to face Tony. “You know I’ve got school tomorrow, right?”

 

“Think of them more as really boring stickers. It’s quite a stylish look, actually.”

 

Peter stuck his tongue out at his mentor, only to quickly realize how childish he must appear. But, paired with the ‘stickers’ on his face, did it really matter?

 

“What about the suit? What are you going to do with it?” Peter asked, curiosity coloring his voice.

 

“I wanted to add some nanotech advancements to the suit itself, get a ‘self-mending’ thing going. Next time it’s ripped or ruined while you’re running around doing god knows what, it’ll auto-regenerate, for lack of a better word. I was also thinking of implementing a more advanced heating and cooling system. The one you’ve got still works but I want to be sure it’s up to date and completely waterproof. You’re more than welcome to help me work on it if you want.” Tony offered. Peter’s jaw dropped.

 

“Heck yeah, I’d love to Mr. Stark. The nanotech and regenerating suit thing is so cool, but what if, just hear me out on this one, we added something like your nanotech with the Iron Man suit, where the suit is stored in this small device, like a ring- no wait I don’t want to wear a ring- like a watch, yeah that’s more like it, and then when I needed it, I could be all ‘woosh, it's me, Spiderman’, and I’ll immediately be in the suit and then I can have two suits, one just the regular one I pull on but then the other one that’s in this fancy watch and then I can fight crime so much more efficiently and we’ll be matching like a father-son crime-fighting duo, or maybe not cause that might be weird but you know what I mean and then we can fight crime together and-”

 

Tony smiled to himself, looking fondly at the kid, who had already moved towards the suit and was examining it closely, clearly lost in his own thoughts and simply rambling on and on at this point. Not that Tony minded, he thought it was endearing to hear how enthusiastic the teen got over this sort of thing. And that father-son duo comment? Well, if anyone asked, Tony’s face just looked like that sometimes and he was definitely not trying to suppress an enormous smile.

 

\---

 

It had been a few weeks since Tony had first proposed the new tech to be added to the suit and Peter had already taken it upon himself to work on the newest improvements every spare moment he had. Right after school let out? Peter was in the lab tinkering away. In between training bouts with Nat (whenever she was around and not off on some secret mission)? In the lab trying to find the best way to incorporate new sensors into the suit’s original tech. At 2 am when he couldn’t sleep and was restlessly pacing around his room in the tower? Peter could be found with Tony hunched over work tables, trading ideas and theories and just talking about anything on their minds until Peter passed out on the work table, a piece of unfinished tech clutched in his fist. And if he woke up in his own bed the next mornings, Tony never mentioned it to him (although Peter had a sneaking suspicion that he was being carried back to his room).

 

Slowly, the suit was working its way towards completion. Peter could barely contain his excitement when he and Tony ran the first trial run with the regenerating nanotech installed into the suit. The suit repaired itself seamlessly. Peter almost cried with joy.

 

“You did well kid.” Tony said with a smile, clapping Peter on the back. “Installing that kind of tech as quickly and efficiently as you did takes some skills.” Tony congratulated him, and Peter felt his heart swell. Just as Peter opened his mouth to ask if he could try the suit out, Tony took one look at the expression on his face and cut him off.

 

“No way are you trying this out tonight.” he stated firmly. Peter stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “This is the very first trial run, there is no way I’m letting you take her out for a spin until I’m sure the suit isn’t going to accidentally disintegrate around you if the tech fails.”

 

Peter assumed he had a valid point but was still visibly disappointed.

 

“Give me a few days, kiddo.” Tony promised, and Peter’s eyes lit up. “Once I’m certain it’s solid, you can give it a whirl.”

 

\---

 

A few days passed, and then a few more, and Tony still hadn’t given Peter the all clear on the suit yet. He kept saying he wanted to run another test, and then another, and while the frown on Tony’s face should have indicated there was some fault in the suit, Peter was getting impatient.

 

Maybe that’s why, when Tony was called away for the night to some important meeting, Peter snuck into the lab and stole the suit. As he guiltily ran back to his room with the suit in tow, he reminded himself that he wasn’t hurting anyone, he just wanted to try it on. It was his suit, after all.

 

\---

 

He hadn’t meant to leave the tower that night, he swore up and down that he had never had any intention to take the suit and so be Spiderman for the night. But the second he got the suit on, he was itching to get out and swing through the New York skyline again. He just wanted to go for a quick swing. No more than five minutes, he told himself. But then five minutes became ten, which became fifteen, and all of a sudden, Peter had been out for almost two hours. Tony was going to kill him.

 

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.” came Karen’s voice through Peter’s mask. Speak of the devil and he shall call you at the most inopportune times.

 

“Uh, Karen, can we just ignore that call real quick, I’ll call him back in a minute.”

 

“I’m sorry Peter, but all calls from Tony Stark are programmed to go through immediately.” Karen said and all of a sudden, Tony’s voice was in his ears and Peter could practically hear his frown.

 

“Kid, I swear on the Captain himself if you are out right now with the suit, I will personally-”

 

“Ha ha, uh hey Mr. Stark. Funny story actually, I’m just chilling in the tower right now watching a movie in the lounge, you know, just having a super chill time. Super duper chill and cool and just overall chill.” Peter rambled.

 

“Wow, sounds _really_ chill.” came the unamused response. “What movie are you watching?”

 

“Uhhhh, Star Wars?”

 

“Wow, incredible, seeing as I’m sitting in the lounge right now, and you and your Star Wars movie are nowhere to be found.” came the reply. Peter’s stomach dropped.

 

“Did I say lounge? Oops, I meant I’m in my room. My mistake.” Peter backtracked, knowing full well that Tony would never buy the story. He wasn’t wrong.

 

“Cut the crap kid, where are you?”

 

“I’m really sorry Mr. Stark, I just wanted to try it out real quick and see if the suit worked and you’ve been running so many tests so I thought it was fine and I’m fine now so I think-”

 

“No, you didn’t think, that’s the problem, Peter. I’m running tests because I’m worried about the nanotech reversing itself or drawing too much from the existing parts of the suit and leaving the whole thing crumbling while you’re still in it. Get back to the tower now Pete, you’re wearing a ticking time bomb.”

 

“Oh man, okay Mr. Stark. I’m on my way right…”

 

Peter trailed off. Over the noise of the city, he could hear the faint sounds of a struggle, a soft yelp followed by a grunt and the sound of something slamming into the pavement.

 

“.....in a few minutes. Gotta go, sorry, bye.”

 

“No, get back here now, I’m coming to pick you up right now kid, and then I’m gonna-”

 

Whatever Tony was planning on doing, Peter never found out. He hung up on Tony’s yelled objections, focusing instead on getting closer to the sounds he just heard. He swung down towards the street, scanning the area. He could see a lady walking her tiny white dog, a couple of kids holding hands and crossing the street, a man in a pressed suit holding a briefcase leaving a building, nothing super threatening. Peter kept scanning the streets as he swung in the direction he heard the sounds coming from.

 

“Bingo.” he whispered to himself, finally spotting the source of the noise. Two figures were next to a building, standing in the dark between two street lamps. They seemed to be fighting, wrestling with each other until the taller one grabbed hold of the other's shoulders and flung the second person onto the ground. The figure hit the pavement with a thud. Peter could now see it was a young man. His eyes were closed and he lay on the ground unmoving. The other person, probably another man if the broad shoulders and stance were anything to go off of, began rifling through the young man’s jacket pockets, pulling out a wallet and starting to go through it, tucking some cash and a few cards into his own pockets.

 

Peter shot a web towards the building next to the two men. He flung himself feet forward towards the man who was going through the wallet, slamming his heels into the man’s chest and throwing him backward away from the other guy. The man went flying backward, landing with a dull thump and letting out a yell. Peter felt a little guilty about hurting him, he wasn’t a huge fan of violence, but he felt his guilt ebb when he saw the man roll into a crouch and pull himself into a standing position. He pulled something out of his pocket and a flash of silver caught Peter’s eye as he was swinging out of reach. The guy had a knife.

 

Peter used his web shooters to swing up to the lamppost nearest to the altercation, landing soundlessly in a crouch on top of it.

 

“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to take what doesn’t belong to you?” Peter asked the attempted mugger, staring down at him.

 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you its fucking rude to kick people?” the man shot back.

 

Peter frowned. “Okay, first of all, watch the profanity. What would Steve Rogers think of your language? Second of all, I’m the only one who will be providing commentary tonight, wait your turn.” Peter shot a grenade web towards the guy, hoping to catch him with one simple move. He didn’t feel like drawing this out for too long. Mr. Stark was expecting him home. However, it didn’t seem to be Peter’s lucky night and the guy amazingly ducked under the web, the grenade web exploding on the wall behind him. A few tendrils seemed to catch onto the criminal’s jacket, but it was definitely not enough to slow him down much.

Peter grumbled and jumped off the post, casting a web to the next lamppost on the street and using it to swing at the mugger. He shot another web towards the guy, which caught his hand this and pinned it to the wall behind him. Unfortunately, it was not the hand with the knife, which the angry man immediately threw wildly in Peter’s direction. It caught the arm of his suit, scraping past and leaving Peter with nothing more than the equivalent of a paper cut. He frowned nonetheless. He should’ve been faster.

 

Peter shot a second web at the guy’s other hand, effectively pinning it to the wall. He webbed the guy up to prevent escape and then asked Karen to call the police and alert them to an attempted mugging. Peter looked around for the young man who had been involved in the altercation. The man had gotten up and was standing a few feet away from him, eyes wide.

 

“Uh, th-thanks Spiderman.” he stuttered out. Peter smiled behind the mask.

 

“Just doing my job. Friendly neighborhood Spiderman and all that jazz.” he said. Peter made his way over to the criminal he had just webbed up. The man stared at him with contempt while Peter threaded his hand through the webs and fished out the cash and cards that the man had stolen.

 

“Sorry Mr. Criminal, but I’m gonna need these back now. Better luck next time.” Peter paused, thinking. “Actually, no wait, I don’t wish you luck. That would be bad news. Oh well, you’ll be in jail anyway.”

 

  
Peter held out the stolen goods to the guy, who accepted them. “Don’t forget kid, stay in school,” Peter said, before swinging away in the direction of the Stark Industries tower.

 

“I’m 27.” The guy called after him in confusion.

 

—-

 

Peter swung as fast as he could back towards the tower. Oh man, Mr. Stark was gonna _kill_ him. But the suit had performed great, there hadn’t seemed to be any trouble at all. Peter was thrilled. He remember thetiny tear the mugger’s knife had made in his sleeve.

 

“Hey, Karen?” he said aloud. “Active the nanotech, I wanna see how it works.”

 

“I must warn you that the tech is not complete and needs further testing, Peter.” Karen warned.

 

“It’ll work Karen. Just activate it.” Peter said, still making his way towards the tower.

 

“Activating nanotechnology regeneration.” Karen’s voice said. Peter couldn’t even feel the suit knitting itself back together, but Karen’s voice kept him updated.

 

“Suit integrity at 94%,” she said. “Suit integrity at 96%”

 

“Its working! Keep me updated, Karen.” Peter said excitedly.

 

“Your suit is 99% regenerated Peter.” Karen said. Peter let out a yell of triumph.

 

“I _knew_ it would work, Mr. Stark didn’t have worry about anything. If only Mr. Stark could see me now, he’d be so impressed. Man, this is so cool!” Peter was beyond thrilled. He had his very own working nanotech suit. Not only had he worked to engineer and design it, now he was wearing it. And it was self-regenerating! Absolutely nothing could bring Peter down right now.

 

“Suit integrity at 91% and dropping.”

 

“What?” Okay, maybe one thing could bring him down. Literally. Peter stopped his progress through the city, coming to a halt on the top of a building. He paced to the edge and looked out over the city in the direction of the Stark Industries tower. Its glowing lights could be seen lighting up the night. “Karen, run diagnostics.”

 

“It would appear the nanotech design is unstable. The suit is slowly becoming damaged from the strain of sustaining both the regeneration as well as its usual functions. It's dissolving around your body.”

 

“WHAT?” Peter knew the suit was still in the testing phase but it had been performing so well so far. How had he come this far only to fail? “Karen shut the nanotech regeneration down. Put everything back to the original settings.”

 

“I can’t do that Peter, shutting down the tech at this phase could be catastrophic.” Karen said, and Peter’s heart plummeted. “Suit integrity at 75%” she added.

 

Peter looked around, trying to figure out what to do. Peter had no change of clothes with him and was stuck in a rapidly disintegrating Spiderman suit. Stark Tower was still about ten minutes away. Maybe if he could make it, but it would be a tight squeeze and he risked the suit failing while he was still miles away from home.

 

“What choice do I have?” Peter grumbled to himself. “Karen, keep me updated on the suit’s integrity, okay? Then, he launched himself off the roof.

 

Peter took off in the direction of the tower, swinging from building to building as fast as he could.

 

“Suit integrity at 60%” came Karen’s voice. Peter forced himself to go faster. Shooting web after web at buildings, lampposts, traffic lights, telephone poles, anything he could use to get him there faster.

 

“Suit integrity at 50%, web shooters in danger of failure.”

 

“Karen, I thought the shooters were supposed to work even without the suit! I designed them to work without the suit on!” Peter panicked.

 

“As this is a prototype version of the Spiderman suit, the web shooters have been integrated into the nanotech. This was done at your request in order to see if the web fluid could also be switched to self-generating.”

 

Peter almost cried. Karen was right, he had switched the web shooters over to be integrated into the rest of the nanotech in the suit. He had been so proud of himself for it too and now he was going to pay the price if he didn’t get back to the tower in time. At this point, just finding a place to land might be a problem if the web shooters cut out in midair.

 

“Suit integrity at 40%, would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”

 

“No, I can do this. I’m so close.” Peter was getting tired. He was starting to pant, exhaustion was setting in from pulling himself through the air at such a high speed. “How far am I from the tower Karen?”

 

“Just under 3 minutes.” came the reply.

 

Faster. He needed to go faster. He was so close. Peter could see the tower, his enhanced sense allowing him to see right inside the windows on the upper levels. He was still to far away for comfort though.

 

“Suit integrity at 25%, failure is imminent.”

 

“Just hold on a little longer, Karen. I need more time.” Peter threw everything he had into the next swing, trying to get some extra air and move faster and further on each swing. He miscalculated the shot, somehow flinging himself high up into the air as the web sailed right past its intended target.

 

And then the web shooters failed. The next web just didn’t come. Peter was hurtling through the air, all the built-up momentum sending him flying high into the air. Then, he began to fall. As quickly as he had gone up, he was coming down. Except this time, there was nothing to catch him. The upper windows of the Stark Tower started to rise above him, the cars below him getting bigger and bigger. He could see the sidewalk below him getting closer and closer. More and more details came into focus. The grating from the sewers. A piece of gum on the railing down into the subway. People’s faces as they stared up in horror as the screaming body of a teenager in a red and blue suit came hurtling down towards them.

 

Falling 100 feet from Stark Tower was never how he wanted to go out, but Peter guessed he didn’t really have a say at this point. He closed his eyes and a loud whooshing sound filled his ears.

 

Peter braced himself for the impact, but it didn’t come. He kept waiting. The whooshing noise became louder and louder. Peter opened his eyes.

 

He wasn’t falling anymore. He was flying, held up by red and gold metal arms.

 

“Oh man, I am in so much trouble.” Peter whispered to himself. The metal faceplate of the Iron Man suit tilted to look down at him. Somehow, the metal seemed to look at him with such disappointment that Peter’s mouth went dry.

 

“Hey, Spiderman.” came Tony’s voice. He was clearly not happy. “How was Star Wars?”

 

“Uh, great.” Peter said weakly. “Superb.”

 

Tony brought Peter up the launch pad on the topmost floor of the Stark Tower. There, he deposited Peter on the floor. Peter tumbled to his knees ungracefully, rising to his feet slowly and brushing himself off. He pulled off the mask to the suit. He could see it starting to look thin and paper-like, probably an effect of the suit failing and starting to dissolve around his limbs.

 

“What were you thinking?” The Iron Man suit opened up and Tony Stark stepped out, looking more like a disappointed father than ever before. “What possessed you to a defective, prototype suit out for a spin miles away from help?”

 

“I wasn’t thinking, I’m real sorry Mr. Stark.” Peter cast his eyes downwards.

 

“Yeah, clearly.” Tony looked like he wanted to strangle Peter. Honestly, Peter wasn’t sure if he would stop himself from doing so. “I told you not to take the suit out. I told you it was faulty. You helped build it yourself, how on Earth did you come to the conclusion that this was an okay thing to do?”

 

“I-”

 

“Rhetorical question. I don’t actually care about the thought process. Clearly, there weren’t any thoughts being processed anyways.”

 

Tony sighed, running both hands through his hair and making it stick up. He walked over to the table and sat down, head in his hands. Peter said nothing. The two of them were silent for the longest time. Finally, Tony spoke.

 

“God, I need a drink.”

 

Peter was taken aback. Tony had given up drinking a few years back, and to hear him say something like that was surprising, to say the least. Tony looked up and there must’ve been some taken aback expression on Peter’s face because his tone quickly changed for his next sentence.

 

“I’m not serious kid, chill out.” Tony said, forcing a laugh. “To be honest, the only thing you’ve gotta worry about is you giving me a heart attack every five minutes whenever you do something dumb.” Peter opened his mouth indignantly, but Tony waved him off. “You know its true, I’m already going gray because of you.”

 

“Quit making that joke, your hair looks fine to me.” Peter interrupted, frowning. Tony flashed him a stunning smile.

 

“That’s because I have an impeccable hairstylist.” Tony said, flipping some imaginary hair off his shoulders. The two of them laughed for a minute, only to sober up quickly. Tony stood up from the table and walked over to Peter.

 

“Look, I know you were excited about the suit and the new tech that was put in, but testing is one of the most important stages of the whole process.” He said. “You went out tonight in a faulty suit that tried to disintegrate around you, to the point that I had to scoop your screaming body out of the sky before you became a Spider-pancake.” Peter frowned at that. “The point is kid, when I expressly say the suit isn’t ready for use, you can be absolutely sure it's not ready. I’ve gone out to fight in unfinished or untested suits before and barely made it out in one piece.”

 

“You have?” Peter asked incredulously. Not that he doubted that. If anyone was going to go out and get kick some ass in an untested suit, it would be Tony.

 

“Really.” Tony gave Peter a slight smile. “Just be more careful, okay? Cause scraping your body off the pavement outside my building would be a pretty awful situation to explain to your aunt.”

 

This got a real laugh out of Peter. The idea of the great Tony Stark struggling to explain to Aunt May why her nephew was a squished pancake was too great.

 

“Yeah, okay Mr. Stark. I’ll be more careful. Don’t want you going any grayer than you already are.”

 

“Watch it, Peter.” Tony warned, but there was a smile on his face. He threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Hey, have I ever shown you the videos of the initial rounds of testing for my Iron Man suit? The very first one, I mean.”

 

“Woah, you mean you have those videos still?” Peter asked eagerly.

 

“Of course I do, Pepper absolutely hates them. Makes me watch them when I do something dumb with the suit so she can make fun of how reckless I was and then try to teach me a lesson about responsibility.”

 

“Does it work? The videos, I mean.” Peter asked.

 

“Oh, definitely not.” Tony laughed. “I still do very dumb things. The videos are just fun to watch. Come on, I’ll show you them.”

 

“This isn’t just a ploy to get me to talk to you about doing dumb things in the Spiderman suit, is it?” Peter asked.

 

Tony faked a gasp. “You hurt me, Peter Parker.” he cried in mock anguish. “Also, yes, it is.”

 

Peter shrugged. “Better than getting lectured about it. Let’s go watch the videos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I overuse italics and I will not apologize for it. 
> 
> I’m gonna be out of internet access for a week, so I’ll update in exactly seven days. Stay tuned kiddos.
> 
> Leave your thoughts, feelings, or spare change in the comments below.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protective Dad Tony Stark freaks the hell out when he finds out his Spidery Son has broken into his Aunt's alcohol. Panic (and hilarity) ensues.

Peter sat slumped against a wall in his small room in the apartment in Queen. Aunt May had gone to bed hours earlier, citing a headache. Peter wondered if he was the cause. He’d been jabbering on and on about all the cool stuff he’d been doing with Mr. Stark at the tower, talking about the technology he’d been working with and how Mr. Stark had let him take a peek at the coding for FRIDAY and KAREN, he hadn’t gotten to touch it or anything but just being allowed to look at it was thrilling. He’d rambled about the different protocols that had been encoded into each of the AIs and the subtle shift in the streams of coding that indicated a hidden encryption and how in depth and sophisticated it all was. It had completely blown Peter’s mind, and all May had said in response was “that’s nice, Peter,” and then she was gone and off to her room to sleep. 

 

Peter tried hard not to sulk, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that May hadn’t even pretended to listen. It was so unlike her. Maybe it was just the headache? She had been pretty stressed lately, and Peter knew he wasn’t doing her any favors being out so late and coming home with a bruised and battered face and the occasional dislocated shoulder. 

 

Peter sighed. It wasn’t fair. All he wanted to do was learn about all the cool stuff Mr. Stark was building (and maybe graduate high school and get into a good college). He pouted, crossing his arms across his chest and slumping even lower against the wall. 

 

He felt utterly useless. It was like he had told all his secret dreams and hopes to the world and the world had laughed and shut the door in his face. Any of the lingering excitement he had felt from earlier that day while he was at Stark Tower was vanishing rapidly. Peter missed the feeling of accomplishment when he talked about some of the AI coding he could see, analyzing all the numbers and letters on the screen, and then Mr. Stark has patted him awkwardly on the back with a small smile on his tired face. He missed the feeling of euphoria when Mr. Stark has promised he’d go out on a patrol with Spider-Man as soon as he had a spare hour or two. Most of all though, Peter missed the heaping praise that May usually bestowed upon him after he told her about his antics at Stark Tower. The thought that he wasn’t doing enough nagged at him, but he pushed it aside. 

 

Sometimes he wished it would all go away. That all his worries would melt and slide away, like butter on a hot skillet. Peter groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and sliding his fingers up through his hair. He tangled them into his carefully styled curls, wrecking all the hard work he’d put into it that morning. It wasn't enough. He yanked softly, then harder, trying to elicit a response from his dumb brain, trying to stimulate himself to get up off the floor and do something to get out of this slump. No dice.

 

He was itching to create, to make things work better and faster and smoother than before. He want to take things apart and see what made them tick. His fingers twitched where he had them buried in his hair. It was a habit he’d picked up from Tony, the urge to use his hands while he was thinking things through. The older man was always tinkering with something or other, spending hours upon hours in his workshop and different labs just playing with tiny pieces of scrap metal and wire and his soldering pen. On the nights when Peter slept at the Stark Tower, Peter knew he could usually find his mentor slaving away at something or other into the wee hours of the morning, only coming up for air every so often to have some coffee or a handful of pretzels or some other snack that Pepper forced upon him. Then he’d disappear back into the upper floors and spend the rest of the night in the lab again. 

 

Peter knew he could always join Tony on nights when he couldn’t sleep. He’d make his way to the reinforced glass doors, enter a passcode, and slip inside the workroom. Sometimes Tony would barely acknowledge him, keeping his tired eyes glued to whatever his latest project was. Other times, Tony would signify his awareness of Peter, sometimes glancing up and offering Peter a weary grin, calling the teen over to his bench to take a look at some schematics or blueprints. They’d sit hunched over their work together for hours, until one of them passed out right there at their work stations or the sun began to peek over the horizon and Pepper came into the room to fix both of them with a disappointed stare. 

 

What he’d give to be in a lab with Tony right now, fiddling with literally any one of the projects he’d been working on. Peter ached to do something. A sort of numbness was creeping into his brain and dulling his thoughts. Peter slid even further down the wall, coming to a halt when his back was on the floor and only his neck was propped up. He pulled a web shooter out of his desk drawer and secured it to his wrist. Acting almost on instinct, Peter shot a lazy web towards the trap door in the ceiling of his room, pulling it open and letting the Spiderman suit drop down into the room to swing from the cord he’d secured it with. Arching his back, he slid completely onto the floor now, rolling over until he was directly under the red and blue pendulum that was the Spiderman suit Tony Stark himself had created. The red and blue material spun on the string and Peter gazed at it dully. Peter reached up to grab it, using another web for assistance. He slowly got to his feet, pulling the suit on once he was upright and sliding the mask over his head.

Just wearing the Spider suit made Peter feel better. Something about the way it made everything so manageable. Maybe it was the way all the sensory input was dialled down from eleven to a something that allowed him to focus and think clearly. Maybe it was just the knowledge that he had Karen’s soothing voice and helpful advice just a breath away. Maybe it was just the fact that Tony had designed it for him. The suit soothed Peter in a way he never imagined was possible. 

 

Peter crossed his room to go to the window, sliding the glass pane open and looking out into the street below. He held his breath. Was it worth it, going out tonight? He’d already been out patrolling after school ended, but a little more swinging from buildings and saving pedestrians from the perils of Queens couldn’t hurt. He was about to climb out of the window and flip off the ledge into the air when he stopped abruptly. His phone dinged, lighting up from where it sat on his desk on top of a mound of papers. The screen glowed displaying an incoming text message. Sighing, Peter shut the window with a faint thud.

 

He made his way over to the desk, making sure to step over the various items on his floor. Different pieces of tech, wires, metals and plastics, a pile of clean laundry that he’d never gotten around to folding, a Star Wars poster that had fallen off his wall that he’d never gotten around to putting back up. Man, his room was a mess.

 

Peter scooped up the phone, glancing at the text displayed on the screen. It was from Ned, checking in on him to make sure he was doing okay. Peter had hastily run off after school, telling Ned that he’d call him later. Peter groaned. He’d never followed up. He hastily crafted a text, telling Ned he’d been off on patrol that afternoon and had completely forgotten to text him, but that he promised he’d come by tomorrow to hang out. 

 

Pressing send, Peter tossed the old phone onto his bed, where it sank down into the sheets and blankets. Peter followed it, crashing down onto the bed and wincing as the springs creaked loudly in protest. He didn’t want to wake Aunt May. He reached up, pulling off the mask and staring up at the white ceiling above his head. The paint was chipped in the corner and a few flakes had already peeled off. 

 

Peter listened carefully for any sounds of Aunt May moving around the rest of the apartment, but he heard nothing. Slowly, he got to his feet and crept to his door. He eased it open and slid out, walking on silent feet into the living room. Peter sat down on the sofa, glancing at the glowing display on the microwave. It was 11:47 pm. May was definitely asleep at this time of night, so Peter knew he didn’t have to worry about her waking up and seeing him lounging around in the Spiderman suit. While his aunt already knew about his extracurricular activities as an enhanced crimefighter, he still didn’t feel comfortable having her walk in on him just sitting around in the suit at home. She’d barely kept it together after she’d found out he was Spiderman and after setting some strict ground rules and having a very long, very loud, and very angry conversation with Tony about it, she seemed to accept the fact that her nephew was a spidery vigilante who wore a skintight suit and swing around the city at night fighting criminals. It had taken some pretty serious convincing from both Peter and Tony to get her to calm down at first, but she was decidedly okay with it under the conditions that Peter now had an enforced curfew and he had to check in with her every so often while out on patrols. As far as reactions went, she’d handled it like a champ. Granted, she still didn’t know much about what had happened in Berlin last year. Peter figured that if she knew exactly what mess Tony had brought him into with Captain America at that airport in Germany, she’d probably be less than thrilled. 

 

Don’t get him wrong, Peter was thrilled that his aunt was so supportive of Spiderman, even with the conditions she’d put in place. However, with the combined force of her exponential worry every time he was late calling her, the expectations she had for his grades in school, and Tony’s “Baby Monitor” protocols he’d put in place, Peter was feeling a little suffocated. He couldn’t go out late patrolling anymore. Tony’s protocols would alert him that the suit was active past Peter’s curfew and he was sure to alert Aunt May of Peter’s movements. As much as Peter loved both May and Tony, it could be exhausting to work under their constraints sometimes. 

 

Peter glanced around the room, mind-numbingly bored. His gaze landed on something he knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about, but he couldn’t help but be curious. His curiosity was what May called his most dangerous trait, telling him it was going to get him in big trouble one day. What with his enhanced metabolism and healing, he’d always had a few nagging questions in the back of his mind,  but there was one that forced itself forward. Could he, Peter Parker, get drunk? And even if he could get enough alcohol in his system to combat his insanely high metabolism, how much alcohol would it take for him to get absolutely plastered? 

 

Peter eyed the bottles of amber liquid in the drinks cabinet. They were just plain glass containers, nothing like the fancy crystal decanters that were in Stark Tower. The alcohol those bottles was probably much more expensive than anything Aunt May kept in the house. There were cans of beer in the apartment’s tiny fridge, Peter had seen them there often enough when he went for a snack, but he was more curious about the hard liquor. He knew for a fact his aunt was partial to tequila. Aunt May had told him many a story of her younger days when she’d go to parties and take tequila shots until the room spun, and then she’d always end the story by telling him never to drink.

 

Peter pulled himself off the sofa and crossed the room to the small glass cabinet that held the alcohol. Peter was 90% sure that whatever alcohol his aunt bought was the cheapest she could find at the highest percentage, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying some. He cracked open the cabinet door, snaking a hand in and pulling out what looked to be the fullest bottle he could see. He turned it over in his hands, the liquid sloshing around inside the bottle. Peter took a look at the peeling label on the outside. Just as he suspected; tequila. 

 

Peter’s hands shook slightly as he unscrewed the lid. He took a sniff of the bottle’s contents and also gagged as the strong smell wafted into his nostrils. He’d never had a drink before, May was pretty strict with alcohol, but May wasn’t here right now and the bottle was so….

 

Peter paused. He’d never heard it directly from Tony, but he’d heard stories of Tony’s younger days, back when he’d drink himself into a stupor, or until he passed out. Peter had seen drink carts in the tower before, but they were never anywhere easily accessible or highly trafficked, unless there was some meeting or benefit being held at Stark Tower. Even then, Peter never saw his mentor with a drink in his hands. Peter knew exactly what Tony would say if he could see him now. He’d talk about how he doesn’t want Peter making the same mistakes he made, and how he wants Peter to be better. 

 

Peter pushed those thoughts from his mind. Alcohol was a depressant. It was supposed to slow down the body and if Peter’s senses were dialled up to eleven all the time, well sue him for wanting things to slow down just a bit. He closed his lips around the mouth of the bottle and tipped it backwards, allowing the alcohol to rush forward and into his mouth. It burned as it ran down his throat, leaving a bitter, stinging taste behind that had Peter grimacing and stifling a cough. Oh god, that was awful. Peter felt his eyes watering with the strength of the liquor and he blinked rapidly. He took another swig, this one burning even more than the first. It tasted okay, like spicy, smoky vanilla, but also tasted like the vanilla was very angry and was stabbing him repeatedly in the mouth. How was it even possible for something to taste like that? Peter choked out a cough, clearing his throat abruptly to try and reduce the burning aftertaste left in his mouth. Was drinking away his problems really worth it if it tasted this bad?

 

Peter took another large gulp from the bottle in his hand. What was that, three or four shots worth of alcohol now? Five? He had no idea. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out another bottle. This one was a clear liquid, the label on the bottle had been rubbed off long ago. Peter had no idea what it was but it smelled sharp and acrid, like acetone but worse. Peter pulled the lid off this bottle too and took a drink straight from the bottle. Whatever was in that bottle was somehow even worse than the tequila. Peter felt like he was dying, it tasted so bad. Yet, he took another drink. Followed by another, and another. Then he went back into the cabinet and finished off a bottle of some dark liquid that tasted a bit like a combination of tree bark, dirt, and toffee, all followed by that god awful stinging burn in his mouth and throat. And then a container of some drink that was sickly sweet and bitter all at once, leaving what felt like a fuzzy coating on his tongue.

 

Peter kept drinking, alternating between the different bottles until everything started to blend together and the gross taste started to fade away, become just a sickeningly sweet and heavy flavor that made his head spin and the room tilt. Thoughts blurred together, slipping and sliding around in his brain, melting and wiggling around in his skull like strawberry jello.

 

Peter reached with one hand for his mask, which was resting on the arm of the sofa. He paused, studying the material of the Spiderman suit that was still covering him. The fabric looked like it was woven from interlocking reinforced spandex squares and Peter had a brief, vivid image of Tony with a needle and thread, sewing his suit together stitch by stitch. The image made him snort in amusement. Peter grabbed the mask off the worn couch and slipped it on over his face. He looked around at the room, blinking stupidly as the HUD filled his vision. Karen’s voice hit his ears all at once, making him jump.

 

“Hello Peter.” she said. “You seem to be a bit disoriented, is everything okay?”

 

“Peachy keen, spicy nectarine.” Peter said, his tongue feeling thick and heavy. He opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue, trying to look at it and going crosseyed in the process. He slumped over on the couch, giggling. 

 

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that phrase, would you like me to add it to my current vocabulary?” Peter could almost hear the frown of confusion in Karen’s voice. 

 

“Yeah, that’d be cool.” Peter replied. “Hey Kaaaaren?” he asked. “How much do ya bet on me making it to Mr. Stark’s tower in one piece? Like, not losing my leg or something else important, ya know?”

 

“As I am an AI designed for your suit, I have no ability to bet. However, after analyzing your current vitals, I’d say you have a 54% chance of making it to Stark Tower right now without any incidence.”

 

“Fabulous.” Peter sighed, pulling himself upright on the cough. He reached up, lifting his mask just high enough to take another sip out of one of the many bottles he had strewn around him. “What if I did it with one hand? Ya think I could do that? I think I can.”

 

Karen seemingly ignored his question. “Your vital seem to be quite off from normal, Peter. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark? Aunt May?”

 

“Naaaah, I’m in a spicy nectarine, remember?” Peter said, standing up and clutching the bottle in his hand close to his chest, swaying on the  spot. “I am the bravest, strongest fruit to ever live.”

 

With that proclamation, Peter stumbled across the room, flung open the window, and crawled out, shooting a web off into the night and jumping after it. There was a bottle still clutched in his left fist and his mask was still up above his mouth. He tried to take another swallow from the bottle as he swung through the air, but only managed to spill most of it on his suit. What a waste of good alcohol.

 

\---

 

Peter took another gulp from the bottle in his hand, shaking it and frowning sadly when he realized how close to empty it was getting. Most of it was in his system but some of it had dripped down his front and onto the neck and chest of the Spiderman suit. With the mask still lifted up above his mouth, Peter lifted the bottle and gulped down the last of the alcohol in a few swallows. Now he was out of liquor, what a sad night. 

 

Peter glanced up, vaguely surprise to see the Stark Tower looming in front of him. Peter shot a web towards Stark Tower, latching onto the side of the building and sending him flying through the air towards his destination. He must have misjudged the distance though because a few seconds later, he was crashing into the side of the building with a thump.

 

The last thing Peter Parker expected to see when he slammed into the windows was the surprised and slightly terrified face of Tony Stark. The man was standing in his kitchen and had jumped about a foot in the air when he’d heard Peter crash into the glass. He whirled around, mouth gaping open in shock when he saw who was clinging to the exterior of his building. Peter grinned manically, waving the bottle he was still clutching is a sort of greeting.    
  
“Hi Mr. Stark sir, what ya up to?” He yelled through the glass, tapping the window with his masked nose. “You look like a fish with your mouth open like that.”   
  
Tony’s face didn’t waver. His mouth moved, words leaving his lips, but Peter couldn’t hear him through the glass. Makes sense, the stuff was probably bulletproof or something. Suddenly, Peter was tumbling into the kitchen with an undignified squawk of surprise. He landed flat on his face, his nose squashed against the cool tile floors, an arm crunched under his torso.   
  
“Oof, was that really necessary Mr. Stark sir? Cause now my nose is a pancake and- oooooh it didn’t break!” Peter exclaimed, his eyes landing on the bottle of alcohol still clutched in his hand. It was, miraculously, still in one piece after his fall into the building. Peter rolled onto his back and lifted it to his mouth again, only to cry out when he realized it was still empty. 

 

“I am shocked and confused.” he proclaimed, rolling back onto his stomach with a dramatic sigh.

 

“FRIDAY, close the window.” Tony said. “Peter, what the  _ hell _ are you-”

 

“Mr. T, you are never gonna believe this, a frickin’ bird landed on my head while I was tryin’ to get here and it was all ‘hello I am bird’ and I was all ‘hey Mr. Bird, I am spider’ and then he left so I was thinking, yanno, what if we found the bird and then I’d have this sick pet that would just fly around as my sidekick.” Peter rolled his mask up higher, uncovering his nose now. “My mouth is not for breathing, it’s for talking. Hey, uh, Mr. Iron Man, can I call you Mr. Man?” Tony snorted at that. “Mr. Man, sir, didja know that it’s hard to breathe when there’s all this cloth covering your face? Well, not your face, it’s my face, but like woooah how do you breathe when you’re Iron Man cause that’s, like, frickin’ metal on your face.” 

 

Tony stared. Peter was rambling. Uncontrollably. Well, more uncontrollably than normal. Tony had a pretty good idea what was going on, but he decided to give the kid the benefit of the doubt.

 

“Peter, are you-” Tony paused, deciding that being direct was the best method here. “You’re…. drunk?”

 

“Mr. Stark Man, I am shocked, nay, offended, that you’d think I have ever taken even a sip from a bottle. Ever. Not even water bottles.” Peter said, giving his mentor an affirmative nod to verify his statement.

 

“Oh, so I’m guessing you stopped a liquor store robbery and just happened to bring back a souvenir?” Tony said, eyeing the hand Peter had wrapped around the bottle he’d brought from home. 

 

“Mmmm yessir.” Peter wiggled his whole body where he lay on the floor, letting out a giggle. “Call me Slugman.” he whispered. “Cause I’m just a lil baby sluuuuug in a super-suit.”

 

“Peter,” Tony crouched besides him on the floor, grabbing the kid’s mask and pulling it off completely. Peter’s brown eyes met his and he left out a breath of air directed at Tony’s head, making his hair move slightly. Peter laughed. Tony grimaced, Peter reeked of alcohol. “How much did you have to drink?”

 

Peter shrugged, looking away from Tony to stare at the cabinets. “Like, all of it maybe?” Tony’s blood ran cold. 

 

“All of it?” he asked slowly.

 

“Well, it was that one that was like May’s nail polish remover, and then the sweet one and the super gross one and the even grosser one, I think one was brown???” Peter broke off his sentence, raising one hand to his chin and stroking it thoughtfully, as if he was stroking an imaginary beard. “Glug glug glug I drank them  _ all _ , like a big ol’ whale.” 

 

Tony leaned away from Peter to exhale a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. Peter barely noticed. He was too busy counting the knobs on the cabinets in the kitchen. 

 

“Woah hey Toneeeeey.” Peter said suddenly. “You got like at least twelve doorknobs.” Tony looked up at the cupboards in his kitchen. There were easily twenty different doors that needed knobs. Well, the kid wasn’t wrong. And at least he hadn’t drowned his brain cells to the point where he couldn’t even count anymore.

 

Tony was transported back to a few years earlier, back when he used drinking as a crutch to get him through each day, as a way to make it from meeting to meeting, from week to week for years and years. He remembered the hazy days and even hazier nights, all of them filled with drink after drink after drink. He remembered Rhodey coming to pick his blackout drunk ass from parties in college, scooping him up and carrying him home. He can still remember hitting rock bottom, and realizing that the only way out was up. He’d told FRIDAY to block all his access to alcohol, no overrides. He wanted to be there for Peter, for Pepper too. He’d already cause her so much strife, given her so much grief over his drinking habits. He stopped drinking for Pepper, but it was Peter who kept him sober. 

 

And here the kid was, laying on the ground with his hands in front of his face, examining his fingers like they held the keys to unlocking the universe. 

 

“Pete, what were you thinking?” Tony mumbled to himself, reaching down to help the kid up off the floor. Peter tried to wiggle away, but he became distracted by the way the light fixture above the sink cast little diamonds of light across the floor. Tony went to scoop him up and this time Peter went willingly, snuggling into Tony’s arms like he belonged there.

 

“I had a shhience idea, ya see, that I couldn’t get shrunk and then I drank al ot-. A lot.” Peter seemed to be struggling with his words slightly. “And nooow here I am, drunked and skunked.” Peter giggled, his eyes sliding closed.”Skunks can’t drink, why’re people even sayin’ that?”

 

Tony frowned. “Do you mean drunk as a skunk?”

 

“Yehhh, that.” Peter said lazily, opening his eyes. “What time is it? Cause May has been goin’ all mama bear and making sure my porridge isn’t too hot and checking to make sure I’m in bed at night and stuff.” Tony raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’m sure she doesn’t mind you’re here, goldilocks. I’ll make a call though, make sure she knows where you are.”

 

“Mmmm you should call me more often too though.” Peter pouted. “I’m outta loops.”

 

“Petey, I call May to let her know where you are.”

 

“But yuh- you never call  _ me _ to let me know where  _ you _ are!” Peter accused.

 

“That’s cause I’m literally always here, Peter.” Tony rolled his eyes. “I’ll just call her quickly, okay?”

 

Peter grasped his sleeve suddenly. “Don’t tell her that I’ve had the alcohols though, okay? Cause she doesn’t know I’m a bad kid, ya know?”

 

“Pete, look at me.” Tony stopped walking, pausing just before the doorway out of the kitchen to make eye contact with Peter. “You are, in no way, a bad kid. Understand? You’re just a little drunk. Make no mistake, I’m definitely going to tear you a new one once you sober up, but for now, I want you to understand that you are not a bad person.”

 

“Awwww, I love yo- you.” Peter drawled, a rosy blush spreading across his cheeks. Suddenly, his face became very serious as he looked at something over Tony’s shoulder. “Oh no it’s 53 o’clock, that’s waaaay past my bedtime.”

 

Confused, Tony turned his head to look back into the kitchen. The microwave display was at 0:53 seconds. 

 

\---

 

“I want that.”

 

“What?” Tony looked over in the direction Peter was pointing. They were making their way down the hallway towards the room Tony had put aside for Peter. Some fancy glass vase on a table had attracted Peter’s drunken eye as it shone the overhead lighting. Note to self: drunk Peter likes sparkles. “Uh, yeah, it’s all yours.”

 

“Ooooh, you’re the best ever.” Peter said. He pointed at something else. “I want that too.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Tony said absent mindedly.

 

“And that!”

 

“Mmmhhmm.”

 

“And that!”

 

Tony finally managed to get Peter to his room in the tower, not before having to make at least one or two pit stops so Peter could look at different pictures Pepper had hung on the walls. 

 

He sat Peter down on his bed, pressing the spider in the middle of the kid’s chest to make the Spiderman suit loosen up around him. He awkwardly helped Peter pull the suit off, leaving him in a t-shirt and boxers. Tony fetched a pair of sweatpants from the dresser on the other side of the room. 

 

“Okay Peter, I need you to cooperate for me real quick okay?” Peter’s wandering gaze found Tony’s face. “Can you help put these on for me?” Tony held up the sweatpants for Peter to see. The kid nodded and stood up, swaying slightly on his feet. Peter took the pants, but it turned out he was far more of a hindrance than a help, as he kept putting two legs into one leg hole and getting himself all tangled up in the process. 

 

Eventually, Peter got his pants all sorted out and Tony helped him back onto the bed, where he sat silently for a few seconds. Then, he turned to look at Tony with wide eyes staring at him from a pale, clammy face. 

 

“Mr. Stark. I don’t feel so good.” he said softly, after which he proceeded to hunch over and vomit all over the carpet. 

 

“Oh Pete, come here.” Tony said, scooping up the trash can from the floor and scooting closer to Peter, who leaned heavily on him. Peter grabbed the trash can from Tony’s hands, gagging violently.

 

Tony sat with Peter as he emptied his stomach into the trash can, one hand helping to hold the can while the other rested on Peter’s back, rising and falling with every choked cough the boy let out. Peter retched until nothing came out anymore, his sides heaving. 

 

“M’ sorry.” He whimpered.

 

“No, you’re doing just fine.” Tony reassured him, rubbing little circles on his back. “You think you’re good for now?”

 

Peter nodded and Tony took away the trash can, placing it on the floor. He gently reclined Peter onto the bed, laying him on his side just in case. Then, he made himself busy cleaning out the bucket of vomit. The stench was overwhelmingly strong, and Tony could bet it had burned twice as bad coming back up as it did when it first went down. He knew from personal experience. 

 

“Tony,” Peter’s voice came from the bedroom and Tony was there in an instant, his hand on the younger boy’s forehead, brushing away the sweaty curls from skin.

 

“I’m right here, Peter. You’re going to be okay, I’m here.” Tony grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand next to the bed. He slid an arm under Peter and lifted him up slightly, bringing the cup to his lip. “Come on, you have to drink,” he ordered, and Peter complied. “Can’t have you getting dehydrated.”

 

Satisfied with how much water he’d had, Tony replaced the cup on the table and laid Peter back down on the mattress. He sat down besides him, one hand resting on the teen’s hair. 

 

“Peter, you know you can talk to me about anything right?” Tony said softly. Peter grunted. “I just don’t want you drinking at a young age like I did. I don’t want you to turn out like me.”

 

“-Rrrr the bess though,” came Peter’s tired voice. The kid was clearly exhausted, but Tony kept talking.

 

“The best? No kid, I’m definitely not the best.” Tony said. “I mean it though. The second you start feeling like the world is this dark awful place that’s against you, I want you to call me. No more hitting the bottle.” Tony looked down at the boy’s sleeping form. “You hear me?”

 

A light snore came in response.

 

Tony smiled. “Sounds good, kiddo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kiddos, I finally wrote the chapter lmao. I know I said I’d get it up two days ago but I am Tired and Want To Die so it took a little longer than expected. 
> 
> All descriptions of the flavors of the alcohol are based off my own experiences from drinking them. I actually hate the taste of alcohol, to the point where I grimace after every sip. Drunk Peter is also modeled after myself when I am drunk, the whole rambling stream of consciousness thing is a direct theft of my own personality trait and I think that’s along the lines of what Peter would end up like. However, I’ve never gotten sick from drinking too much so I have no idea what it feels like shifting from happily drunk to vomiting to instantaneous regret.
> 
> Please enjoy my meager offering in the form of this chapter. (jk its over 5k words, please love me I try so hard)
> 
> Comment, bookmark, leave kudos, do whatever your beautiful heart desires. I’ll update in a few days.


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